


Another Late Night

by Gracie_Girl87



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Grimmons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23860219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracie_Girl87/pseuds/Gracie_Girl87
Summary: Another sleepless night for Simmons in the darkness of his Red Base room. Grif decides to give him some company.
Relationships: Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons
Comments: 4
Kudos: 87





	Another Late Night

It was late. The only audible noises heard were the millions of crickets that housed themselves in the Blood Gulch canyon and the occasional subtle hoot owl that echoed from somewhere off the cliff face. The ground was pale all around Red base. It was almost a full moon, but not quite. Enough light to go on a nightly patrol with no visual aid needed.

In the darkness of the base, there were no windows to enjoy the moonlight. It had been fortified with four and a half feet of concrete on all sides, including the bedrooms. In the darkness of his room, Simmons was hunched over his desk with a small lamp light, re-reading the Red Army Handbook. He was pretty sure he had it memorized this time, but it never hurt to be extra sure. He sipped from his water bottle, completely enveloped in this late night activity. His dedication to such a hobby dulled his other senses to determine his surroundings. This was something he wasn’t usually fond of, but he paid no mind to it this time. He was in his room, surrounded by concrete. Even though they were at “war” with the Blues across the canyon, today was Caboose’s birthday or some shit. There wouldn’t be an attack of any sort tonight, of that he was sure of. But unbeknownst to him, Grif was leaning in the darkened doorway to his bedroom for some time now.

Grif scanned the pristine organized room. Simmons had his armor promptly hung in its place on the wall at the foot of his bed. It was clean and obviously handled with care, despite it being a metal plated suit of armor designed for war and bloodshed. Grif silently huffed at how straight and perfect the bed sheet corners were tucked in. He wondered if Simmons had learned to do that in the military or if it was just his OCD getting the best of him. Nonetheless, he had plans to ruin their perfect, clean cut pattern. Grif quietly stepped into the room as Simmons licked his finger to turn another page of the handbook.

“You’re up late.”

Simmons jolted from his swivel stool with a yelp. He instinctively blinded Grif with his desk lamp, to which Grif raised his hands with a groan.

“Jesus, Grif. Don’t do that.”

Simmons scolded through his teeth keeping his voice at a conscious whisper. He redirected his lamp downwards as Grif vigorously rubbed at his eyes.

“Ow.”

“Yeah, well, you deserved it, asshole.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“I’m whispering because it’s late. What the fuck are you doing up?” 

“I dunno. Couldn’t sleep I guess.”

Simmons hummed an uninterested response attempting to find which page he was on before he nearly threw his book across the room. Grif shoved his hands into his pockets, treading closer to Simmons’s desk. Simmons collected some pens he spilled out of their cup and straightened some papers he had displayed in front of him. He anxiously exhaled once everything was back to its usual spot. He could feel Grif’s nonexistent shadow casting over him. He looked up to see him leaning against the wall next to the desk with his arms crossed.

“What?” Simmons asked with an annoyed tone behind his voice.

“Nothin’.”

“Grif…”

Simmons pinched the bridge of his nose. It was a little too late to be playing games and putting up with Grif’s usual bullshit. The metal of his hand gleamed in the yellow light of the lamp. It compelled Grif to look down at his own arm that Simmons generously provided him. He grinned at it graciously then chuckled.

“Ya know, I always wanted freckles.”

“What?”

“As a kid, I noticed that my sister got more attention than me. My Mom was always told what a cute kid she was. I always assumed it was because she had freckles and I didn’t.”

Simmons carefully rested his robotic arm across his desk, ensuring he didn’t shuffle the papers he had just straightened. Grif held up his pale, freckled left arm as if waving hello.

“Thanks to you, I’m cute now. So ya know… thanks for that.”

“You’re… welcome?”

Simmons was confused by the sudden appearance of Grif in his bedroom and the random conversation he found himself in. Did Grif just indirectly call him… cute? He pretended to clear his throat.

“So, you couldn’t sleep, huh? That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“Yeah, I know, right? So I thought to myself, best come over here and see what lame ass shit you’re up to. Maybe it’ll be boring enough to lull me to sleep.”

Simmons slacked his shoulders, “Gee, thanks.”

“What were you doing anyways?”

“… Memorizing the Red Army Handbook.”

Grif cocked one of his eyebrows with a silent _I told you so_ look. Simmons sputtered a few words waving the handbook around in his hand.

“Wha- I- you- Okay, okay. So _you_ may think it’s boring, but this shit is important to know. It could save our lives one day.”

“Save our lives? Give me a break.”

“Whatever, what do you know?”

“Well, I know it’s probably boring enough to put me to sleep, so start reading dick head.”

Grif patted Simmons on the back then strolled over to the neatly trimmed twin size bed that was shoved in the corner next to the desk.

“Wait, what? No, Grif-”

“The sooner you read, the sooner I leave.”

“But- but-”

Grif plopped himself down onto the bed, propping himself up on one of his elbows. Simmons swallowed at the sight of Grif splayed across his bed. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t imagine it once or twice on lonelier nights. Just having a warm body to cuddle up to after a long taxing day under Sarge’s command was something he often thought about. Even if there was no physical contact involved, having someone else in the room with him as he performed remedial tasks was just as satisfying. He ran his lower lip through his teeth then huffed a sharp sigh.

“Fine, but the second you get tired you have to leave, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just read already.”

Simmons flipped back and forth a few pages until he came to the spot where he had left off. He straightened his posture then cleared his throat and began reading the text aloud. Grif noticed how Simmons would close his eyes while reciting certain paragraphs word for word. He would express a small side smile when he knew for a fact that he had narrated the whole thing correctly without looking. It was impressive, but Grif knew not to admire it too keenly out loud. Simmons was too uptight. His routine consisted of regimented time blocks of studying, drills, maintenance, spread sheets, patrols and, of course, ass kissing. He even provided himself with reading materials for every meal time. Sometimes it endlessly annoyed Grif to be talking to the back side of a book or tablet, but sometimes Grif didn’t mind the opportunity it administered to just watch Simmons work; to watch him eat and memorize the acute line of his jaw or the color of his lips. Encouraging Simmons would only cause him to lose sleep, like he was presently doing right now. Grif admiringly sighed at the sight of him and his work then turned over onto his back with an arm tucked under his head.

Simmons went on and on, happily reciting the handbook page by page and occasionally starting a phrase over again if it was incorrect. Grif’s eyes drifted a few times as he lazily traced his finger nails back and forth along the concrete wall next to him. Once or twice Simmons accused him of sleeping, to which he denied cheerfully and quickly changed positions to prove that he wasn’t. Simmons would then roll his eyes and keep reading until he reached the end of the handbook. Grif would clap his hands together demanding another read through, but Simmons would only flip to the pages he knew needed more of his attention.

Grif eventually found himself on his back again with his right arm tucked up under his head. Simmons rubbed at his eyes as he reread the same phrase over and over again. He peeked through his fingers at the text as he built up the rhythm the words made in his mouth. Once he had it, he turned back a page and recited the two pages together until he reached the phrase he had just studied. He leaned back into his stool and crossed his arms. By the look he gave his alarm clock, he was not particularly overjoyed. It read 3:45am.

_How did it get to be so early?_

His alarm was always set for six to give him enough time to suit up and prepare himself for the day. His eyes were blurry. They filled with some mist as he concealed a yawn with a clenched jaw.

He looked over at his bed, which had Grif fast asleep on his back. Simmons couldn’t help but smile at the big oaf consuming his bed. He admired the wrinkle in his shirt that exposed a little bit of his stomach and the wideness of his genetically built shoulders. Some of Grif’s hair had slipped from its knotted ponytail and draped itself over his collarbone. Simmons looked him up and down until his gaze trailed to his hand-me-down left arm. It was stretched out from the bed resting on top of his knee.

_How long has that been there?_

Simmons noted the warmth his hand held. The warmth _Grif’s_ hand held on his knee. He admitted to himself that this was a weird experience to have one’s own hand reaching out toward them, but he pushed the thought aside and grasped the limp hand with his metallic touch. He stroked his thumb over it a few times, allowing the sensory pad in his palm to feel the heat from their now entwining finger tips. Grif’s laboring breaths caused his untied hair to twitch lightly to and fro. Simmons wondered if Grif was truly sleeping or just being lazy and faking it so that he didn’t have to get up and leave. Either way, Simmons didn’t mind his company.

He gently squeezed the hand then slowly removed it from his knee back onto the bed. Grif didn’t as much as stir from the movement. Simmons looked down at the pillow. There was plenty of room for him there next to Grif. What was the harm? He had to be up in two hours anyways. He could sleep, get up, get dressed and leave in that time before Grif would even open his eyes. His mind was too tired to protest as he clicked off the desk lamp and slowly settled himself down next to Grif. They were on top of the covers, but it didn’t matter. Grif was a walking talking furnace 24/7. The heat radiating from his body coaxed Simmons to immediately close his eyes and rest his head into the pillow. Grif’s arm fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. And why wouldn’t it? It was originally Simmons’ arm after all.

He blinked at the darkness around them. It was finally happening. He had secretly longed for someone to sleep next to for far too long. It haunted him that he had to drag himself to an empty bed every night. Not that he had someone to go to bed with before the war, but the militaristic life style amplified its emptiness. It exaggerated its cold nature so that no matter what you do, it would always be a hollowed out hole for you to crawl into night after night. Simmons felt a tear well up in his eye, but he quickly blinked it away, pressing his cheek into the warm arm beneath him.

Grif stirred lightly, but not enough to fully wake. Simmons’ breath hitched in his throat as the arm curled up under his neck. Grif rolled into him, wrapping his other arm around his stiffening body. Simmons quickly moved his metal arm out of the way so it wouldn’t snag Grif’s clothing and wake him up. A leg bunched Simmons’ ankles together and tucked them in a tight entanglement. Grif quietly smacked his lips together then rested his chin on top of Simmons’ forehead with a deep exhale. Simmons quivered at the sudden rush of body heat that affectionately cradled him. He released the breath he held and cautiously brought his metal arm down to rest on Grif’s side. His clenched muscles relaxed into the warm embrace. He hesitantly pressed his lips into the defined collarbone in front of him then sleepily closed his eyes. He rubbed his nose in a small circle at the base of Grif’s throat. The scraggly feeling of Grif’s unkempt beard was oddly comforting to him. He inhaled the musk of Grif’s overly heated body until he found himself trailing off to sleep.

There they stayed. They never changed positions and Simmons never roused from the moment he fell asleep until he awoke before his alarm an hour and a half later. He would secretly consider it to be one of the best night’s sleeps he ever had and he would never tell Grif it happened. But what he never knew was that Grif was secretly awake the whole time and loved every second of it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a spur of the moment fan fiction I wrote for someone who needed some cheering up. Hope you enjoyed the Grimmons cuddles. We're all in this together. Don't let the sleepless hopeless nights get the best of you. Chin up!


End file.
